Past Lives
by Ashley A
Summary: AU. Horblower has command of the Hotspur, and Bush is first Lt.


AU.

Hornblower has command of the Hotspur, Bush is first Lt. My ideas from there.

Bush gets some bad news, and Hornblower attempts to help him.

Pre slash I would say.

Disclaimer: not mine. No copyright infringement intended.

Rated: PG

Enjoy!

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First Lt. William Bush stood at the quarterdeck, the breeze from the west blowing his clubbed hair around his neck.

He frowned, and shook it back impatiently. The men on board were scurrying around like rats, readying the ship for the Captain's arrival.

The captain.

While what Bush had told his friend had been true, Hornblower would make an excellent leader, he was slightly shocked still that the man had been made captain at so young an age. He was what, 25, 26?

Bush knew he himself might never make captain; at 37 he was past the traditional age of promotion. However, one never gave up hope. He truly believed he was an excellent lieutenant, and planned to serve Captain Hornblower with as much loyalty as he would any man he worked under.

He would be that way for the captain til the end. His feelings in regards to the younger man dictated no other type of behavior.

The small boat coming toward the _Hotspur_ appeared out of nowhere, and the officer of the watch hailed him, saying "gig to starboard bow, sir!"

"Very good, Mr. Young. See what they want, would you?"

A few moments later, Mr. Young was scrambling back to Bush.

"Yes, Mr. Young?"

"The captain asks for you to join him on shore, Mr. Bush," the man said. "The boat is waiting for you."

Bush cocked his head in surprise, then frowned in sudden worry. What could Hornblower possibly want with him at this late an hour? The ship was set to sail in the next 24 hours, and Bush had many a tedious job in front of him if he wanted to be ready. This type of request was unusual for the captain, and Bush rapidly feared that anything Horatio had to discuss with him in confidence was not something he cared to cover. Bush was very private; he kept all feelings to himself, especially those in regards to his good friend captain Hornblower.

"Thank you, Mr. Young, and I shall be there presently. Mr. Orrock!"

The fair headed Irish midshipman appeared at Bush's elbow. "Sir?"

"The captain requires my presence on shore. You are in charge. See that the rest of the supplies are loaded in a timely manner. I shall return as quickly as possible."

"Aye aye, Sir!" Orrock touched his hat to Bush, and wheeled about, speedily making his way aft.

Bush retreated to his cabin, grabbed his greatcoat, and quickly walked to the starboard side of the _Hotspur_, climbing nimbly into the gig.

"Shall we?" he told the man holding the tiller, and off they went toward Portsmouth.

Bush was even more surprised to see the captain waiting for him at the dock. As he disembarked, Bush touched his hat, and approached Hornblower, whos arms were wrapped tightly about himself, his overcoat flapping in the Decemeber air.

"Mr. Bush, thank you for being good enough to join me. I have a few things to discuss with you before we set sail," Hornblower said, wasting no time.

He turned and walked away from the jetty, and Bush followed, confused, his worry mounting. Had he said something, done something to reveal inappropriate thoughts? Had his behavior of late been less than exemplary?

His expression changed to one of military blankness as they joined the swirls of humanity walking the streets. Hornblower walked a few blocks without saying anything, then turned abruptly into a small pub. He held the door open for Bush, then commenced to sit at the table next to the window, where Bush followed him.

"Sir?" he finally asked when nothing was forthcoming.

His mouth drawn in a thin line, Hornblower said nothing, but handed Bush a small letter, which was adressed to him.

"What is this?" he asked, not recognizing the handwriting.

"Just read it, William," Hornblower said gently. Alarmed at the pained expression in the captain's eyes, Bush hurriedly opened the letter.

Bush read quietly for a few moments, his brows drawing together as he did so. A look of incredulity replaced his calm demeanor, and Hornblower winced inwardly as his first lieutenant's skin went paler than normal.

"I am truly sorry, William," the younger man said at last, and touched the back of Bush's hand.

Bush said nothing, and stared at the letter as if his eyes would bore holes into it.

"William?" Hornblower said, concerned at his friends' lack of reaction.

Bush shook his head slightly, as if clearing his vision. He blinked rapidly, his eyes burning. He stood abruptly, dropping the letter onto the table.

"Excuse me, Horatio," he said absently, the formality of captain and lieutenant escaping his mind.

He pulled his coat about him, and exited the pub, leaving Hornblower to gape after him.

Bush wandered aimlessly on the streets of Portsmouth. At the back of his mind was the niggling idea that he was shirking his duty, but in this instance he didn't think his captain would mind if he was slightly late back to the _Hotspur_. And if he did, well, Bush didn't honestly care at this point.

His care had only been for himself and for his growing attachment to Hornblower. What a blow to realize it hadn't been about that; and what a blow to realize how selfish he had been to think only of his own problems.

He finally stopped at the edge of a small city park, and sank heavily onto a wrought iron bench he found there.

His mind whirling, he caved in on himself, hunching over, his lean, thin frame twisted like a piece of burned metal.

The small meal he had eaten on the ship earlier threatened to come up, but he swallowed heavily, and forced it back down. His stomach moaned in protest, but he ignored it.

"William!" the voice came from behind him, and he shut his eyes in misery_. Not now, for the love of God._

"Sir," he said, and stood, his right fingers grasping the brim of his hat, which lay on his head somewhat askew. It was very unlike him to be so disorganized, and he wondered briefly with a strange laugh inside if Hornblower would demote him immediately.

"Sit, Mr. Bush, please sit," Hornblower said, and pushed the older man back onto the bench. "Are you quite all right?"

He removed his own hat, and Bush smiled at the sight of his friends' crazy corkscrew hair that threatened to take over his face. Horatio shoved it back from his forehead impatiently, and turned to face Bush.

"I apologize sincerely for the manner in which I had to inform you of the…difficulty," the captain said, stumbling over his words. He was always a bit shy when it came to emotions and anything regarding his officer's personal lives. He had let himself care once, and that had ended in loss. Never again.

He respected and liked William Bush a great deal, and had been through many scrapes with the man.

He was perplexed and a bit hurt that the news he had had to deliver to him was unknown to himself as well.

"No, Sir. It's all right. I should have told you about this earlier," Bush responded, his own voice sounding far away and tinny. Hornblower shook his head emphatically.

"No, William. Don't berate yourself. Your private life is just that- private. I don't require any of my officers to share anything they don't choose too- nor my friends."

He added this last word with a slight touch to Bush's shoulder, and the other man turned his steely blue gaze on him.

Bush wanted to laugh at the choice of words that Hornblower had used, but he forced a smile instead, knowing that the captain would not understand had he reacted with mirth. Nor was Bush inclined to explain it.

"Thank you, Horatio," he said softly, and removed his hat now, scrubbing a hand through his hair, making the part that wasn't bound stand up in wild clumps.

"I haven't spoken to or seen Lily in quite some time…probably a year now," Bush mused, and Horatio was happy to let his friend talk. He figured it was probably more healthy for the man to get it out.

"We married young, and too quickly. We were always friends, but never much more than that. She was an anquaintance of one of my sister's," he added, and Hornblower nodded, wanting him to keep talking.

"I was comissioned a few months after our marriage, and was gone most of the time during that first year. She is- was a good woman, and I never doubted her faith in me. But I guess I should have," Bush said, a small laugh barking out of his bird-like throat, and he clenched his hands together.

"Elizabeth is not my child. But I loved her like she was…oh, my God."

Bush gasped, and his adam's apple bobbed desperately as he tried to hold his emotions in check. It wouldn't do for an officer of HM Navy to cry in front of his superior, regardless of how friendly they were.

"I'm sorry, William," Horatio said, at a loss for anything else to say. Bush nodded, his cheeks a slightly green tinge. He shut his eyes and swayed as if he were balancing on the deck of the _Hotspur_. Hornblower patted his shoulder, his forehead creasing with concern.

"Can I- do anything?" he asked, but Bush shook his head no.

"I thank you, sir…Horatio. I don't know if I can do anything," he said, his normally strident voice sounding broken and small. Hornblower was sorry to hear the sound.

"How long were you married?" the captain asked, if only to distract Bush.

"Ten years," the other man answered, " though we never thought of leaving one another. She would have left me had I wanted that, but in truth, I loved the child too much to ask that. Besides, I wasn't exactly the most devoted of husbands. I couldn't askLily to do something I should have done myself."

"I understand," Horatio said, and thought briefly of his own wretched luck with the fairer sex, then banished his doubts from his mind. He needed to be concentrating on William's problem. He would be there for him, regardless of what was needed. Bush deserved no less.

"A simple thing, really. Tending a fire…falling asleep with a book in your hand. I have done it many times, with never a thought for safety. How on Earth did this happen?" he asked, but Horatio didn't think he was expecting an answer.

"I wish I knew what to tell you, William," Hornblower said at last, "I didn't want to give you this news on board. I thought it better to tell you when you had the chance to…grieve properly. You will be provided of course with time to contact your family and see to business in regards to this…unfortunate event. Whatever you require, it shall be done."

Bush was grateful for the offer, but shook his head.

"I have no business to attend to, Sir," Bush answered. "She spent the last two years living with her sisters, and had only recently acquired a flat through an inheritance…which I can only assume was where the accident took place. With both of them gone…"

He sighed at the last few words, crunching up into a ball again. "I'm at a loss, Sir. I don't know how to feel."

He colored slightly at this admission, and hastily spoke.

"I mean, I don't really know what to do next."

William Bush was not an openly emotional man, and he was ashamed to have spoken so freely to someone, even if it was one of his closest friends. The idea that here was Hornblower, right next to him, and the fact that they were having a slightly intimate conversation, was enough to make Bush's guts twist like the rope ladders that lead to the topsail. He was in absolute misery, alone in the world truly, yet all his thoughts swirled around one person. And it wasn't the person he should be thinking about, in light of recent events.

So when the other man gripped his hand and squeezed it tightly, he was shocked to the core, but pleased nonetheless. It was more than he could have hoped for, at any rate.

"I understand, believe me. Listen, William, I think a drink is order before we return to the ship…you left Mr. Orrock in charge, I assume?"

"Yes, sir," Bush answered. He didn't really feel like a drink, but thought it impolite to turn his senior officer down, no matter how the junior was feeling at the time.

"Follow me, Mr. Bush, and lets join the throng of humanity one last time, shall we?" Hornblower said, trying to force jovality into his voice, if only for Bush's sake.

"After you, sir," Bush answered, and plopped his hat back on his wild hair.

Bush found he did need the few glasses of port that they purchased at a small dockside pub, The Sparrow, and drank them more quickly than he had intended to.

His normally pale face flushed red, he turned to Hornblower as they left the establishment, shrugging his coat on against the wind.

"Sir…I must thank you for your kindness. It will not be forgotten," he told the younger man, and Hornblower waved his hand, making a pffft noise hastily.

"No need, Mr. Bush, no need. Are you certain you do not wish to see your…wife's family?" he stumbled over the word, and Bush sympathized. Lily hadn't really been his wife for a long time. If she had ever.

Bush knew very well just how unemotional he could be. It was a handy trait to have during war, and very important to keep a cool head in stressful times. But he wasn't unfeeling; far from it. Yet apart from the occassional fumbled attempt at lovemaking, he and Lily had never been physically affectionate with one another. Bush wasn't sure if he would have ever been attracted to her that way, especially after he had gotten to know the young man with him presently.

It was certainly not appropriate in HM Navy to be in love with your commanding officer, but there it was.

However, this accident, this tragedy, for it was one, had brough some of the old wounds to forefront, and he found himself truly sorry that things had gone the way they had with himself and Lily. She had deserved much more than he ever gave her. That was one reason why he had never done anything about it when she had become pregnant, and another reason why he had accepted Elizabeth as his own.

He stumbled over some rocks, and cursed, a bit more vehemently than he had intended. Sweating and swearing, his feet felt like they were no longer under his control. Anger seethed through him at the thought of doing something stupid in front of Hornblower; he had never seen the man do anything even remotely ridiculous, and here was Bush, slightly drunk and almost weeping over a family tragedy he could do nothing about.

Frustration with his current situation mounted, and he scooped a piece of the offending rock off the ground as he righted himself, and hurled it into the water at the port.

"Blast!" he bit off, and stormed a bit away from Hornblower, the man's presence now like an anathema to him, where it would normally be almost a balm in the most dire of circumstances.

Bush knew he was acting out of character, but couldn't help it. He didn't know what to feel anymore. He had been telling the truth. And having the object of his passion being the only friend around him at this moment was worse than being alone to bear the news of his wife's death.

"Mr. Bush? Are you certain you don't need more time?" Hornblower asked, suddenly at Bush's elbow.

"My respects sir, but I don't honestly think it would help," Bush answered, wavering slightly in the wind and from his earlier libations. Damn it to hell, he wished he hadn't drunk quite so much.

Hornblower faced him, and put his hands on Bush's arms, steadying him. He looked the other man in the eyes, the concern and care there almost Bush's undoing. He could bear it no longer, and fumbling as much as he had in any other physical show of emotion, accepted the hug the younger man gave him.

Bush patted Horatio awkwardly on the back, and pulled away quickly. He knew somewhere in the recesses of his inebriated mind that he couldn't stay too close for too long. Bad idea. Besides, they were in public.

"I don't want to rush you, William…but we should be getting back to the _Hotspur_ if you are quite ready," Hornblower said, and Bush nodded. He wasn't ready. He didn't know if he would be ready in the next five minutes, or the next twenty four hours. But he knew it was time; they had actually been on shore longer than he had expected.

"Yes, sir," he said as smartly as he was able, blinking his eyes rapidly to dispell the wooziness he felt, and to get rid of the burning. Damn infernal dockside wind. _Steady on, William._

They walked quickly to the gig that was waiting for them, and Hornblower got in first. The oarsmen set off as Bush managed a wobbly jump into the small craft, crashing into the captain as he lost his footing. Hornblower's long fingers grabbed the front of his coat, and their foreheads cracked together resoundingly.

A moan sounded from both men, and they simultaneously raised their hands to the respective lumps forming on their skulls.

"Oh, sir, I am heartily sorry," Bush rushed, embarassment making his pale cheeks flaming red. He squinted his eyes in shame; a first lieutenant who couldn't get on a gig without falling against another man, and the captain at the very least? God help him. He sat as quickly as possible, while Hornblower joined him, smiling through his grimmace of pain.

"Not a pleasant day for you, I would warrant," he said, trying to make light of the situation. Bush smiled slightly, but wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Indeed, sir," he answered, and set his steely blue stare out to the horizon, where the sun still streaked the sky with pink and orange tinged clouds, a perfect mockery of the blackness invading his heart.

Damn his weaknesses. Damn them all to hell. Damn his choices, damn the Navy, damn his infernal weak heart that made him love someone so unattainable. And damn Lily for dying in this stupid way, and making him have to reveal her presence. And little Elizabeth. Dear God.

"_Hotspur_ ahead," the tiller man said, and the oars rose as the small boat pulled up along side the ship.

"Mr. Bush," Hornblower said, and stepped smartly up the small deck onto the ship, and held out his hand to assist Bush.

He only accepted because he was a tad bit off balance. Not in any way was it to feel the slender, cool fingers against his own overheated ones.

They were piped on board, and Hornblower set about barking orders, not unkindly, and soon enough Mr. Orrock presented his report of all the goings on.

"Very good, Mr. Orrock, you have the deck til the first watch. We depart at dawn."

"Aye aye captain!" the young man smiled, and bustled away.

"Sir," Bush said, "It's my job to oversee-"

"I know, William. Please, join me in my cabin, would you?"

"Yes, sir," he responded, and they made their way below.

"Don't, Horatio," Bush said when the younger man opened his mouth after shutting the door behind them.

"Don't what?" he responded, confusion evident on his narrow face.

"Don't apologize again, please," Bush said, "I cannot bear it. You had nothing to do with what happened, I can't do anything about it, and I feel for the good of the ship I must bear my problems and deal with them myself. I am deeply grateful for your kindness…but honestly, I think getting back to normal duty would be the best thing for me."

Hornblower chewed on his lip, plunked his hat down on the table, then sat. He frowned at Bush.

"Are you sure? I am worried. I have never seen you this melancholy, William. I know it's a hard blow, but I don't want you to carry on as if nothing has happened. Something very significant happened, something important to you, and that makes it important to me. I want to do whatever is necessary to get you through this."

Bush sat next to him, and whether it was the alcohol or just his nerves emboldening him, he placed his hand over Hornblower's. To his immense satisfaction the other man squeezed back.

"Then be my friend, and let it go. That's all I ask. The marriage I never mentioned because it was something I made a mistake on a long time ago. I didn't think anyone needed to know…and I am sorry for that. I know honesty is vital to you," he added, and again Hornblower opened his mouth to say something, but Bush cut him off. "I didn't mean to keep secrets, but I…ah, damn. I don't really have a reason that doesn't sound daft. I am sorry, my friend. Please forgive me for keeping you in the dark."

"William, hush. You would be my friend if you told me you had been carrying an octopus around in your breeches all this time, or that you secretly desired to join the Russian dance society," Hornblower said, trying to think of the most outlandish things he could possibly mention. He cracked a smile at the idea of Bush in ballet togs, and tried to smother a larger laugh when the other man just glared at him.

"Dance society? You must have forgotten my attending the Army band recital coincides on the same night…now why would I miss that?"

Horatio just stared at his friend for a moment, then rocked back in his chair as they both burst into ridiculous laughter.

"God, man! Enough," Bush moaned a few minutes later, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes. Hornblower snorted once, then pulled out a bottle of port, and poured two glasses. Bush tried to shake him off, but Hornblower insisted, and they raised their glasses.

"To my friend Lt. William Bush, one of the bravest men I shall ever be priviledged to know," the captain said, and Bush colored. He thought briefly, then answered with his own.

"To the captain of the _Hotspur_, Mr. Hornblower, and his honor and kindness. May you never lose sight of them."

They drank in silence, comfortable with one another.

Bush thought of Lily, and sorrowed. He thought of tiny little Elizabeth, and mourned deep in his heart, deep in that spot he thought never to be spoken for. His professional façade was easy to find, but not as easy to put on this time.

"If you need anything," Horatio said, then stopped. He nodded.

"I know," Bush answered, and drank his port.

Bush knew that Hornblower could be doing plenty of things in preparation for leaving Portsmouth. He was honored and touched that the other man chose to sit here with him, just being a presence of comfort to a hurting friend. It meant the world to him.

The two men sat in silence in the cabin as the last of the rays of the sun disappeared over the water, the noise of the ship lulling at least one of them into a sense of well being.

Bush was not unhappy with his life. But as he sat in the darkening cabin with his best friend, the only light a small candle that made the lean features on Hornblower's face glow, he wished, not for the first time, that things could be different.

He might never get the courage to find out if they could be.

He would be content with the closeness he had, and his lot in life.

He was not an emotional man. He had no need of family, or romantic love.

He wouldn't dream of brown eyes and tousled brown hair, or long for more than a brief touch from the willowy fingers.

He wouldn't.

No family. Not even a fake one. He could do this. He could.

Damn it.

Fin.


End file.
